


Like it

by Hylotelephium



Series: Wartime stories - random one shots and snippets [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Imprisonment, One Shot, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Smut, Some Plot, Tension, What Was I Thinking?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2020-08-20 05:21:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20222476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hylotelephium/pseuds/Hylotelephium
Summary: During the war, Hermione gets caught by death eaters and brought to Umbridge who imprisons her and leaves her to crack from isolation. But, not many days go by before someone finds her warded room and breaks in...Four short chapters. COMPLETE :)





	1. Disguise

No one had come for her since the day Umbridge led her down to her cell. Since the door closed behind her several days ago she had not seen a single soul.  
The room that was her cage was empty except a mattress on the floor, a mirror on the wall and a book on the edge of her simple bed. A sink and a toilet in one corner. No window to help separate night from day.

The mirror and the book she figured was some kind of cruel jokes from Umbridge. When Hermione was caught, she had been under heavy glamour charms. To look into the mirror and find the face of a stranger staring back was mind-boggling and straight-up eerie.  
The book was about 500 pages of declaring muggles - and often in extension muggleborns, lesser worth than any wizard. It was utter rubbish, of course. What did Umbridge hope to achieve? Offend her? Brainwash her?  
Hermione had naturally read it from cover to cover. Partly to distract herself from the isolation and whatever horrifying, painful things the death eaters could do to her under an interrogation. Partly to distract herself from thinking about the war and everyone still fighting.

She sat on the mattress having just decided to re-read the stupid book when a loud thud broke the silence.  
Her heart raced. Someone was trying to break in.  
Had the order managed to find her?

Another thud filled the silence of the room and the door creaked so loudly she thought the wood was about to split.  
She held her breath.  
Did Voldemort just not bother lifting whatever wards Umbridge had put in place and had decided to blast his way in?

Then the door finally swung open with a crack and she backed away.  
A huge, blonde man stood in the door frame, almost completely blocking it. His wand raised.  
He looked faintly familiar. A look of triumph spread across his face as he looked into the room.

"_Expeliarmus!"_

A flash of light emerged from the man’s wand and hit her squarely in the chest. It knocked her backwards, hard against the wall and made the book in her hands fly across the room.  
The man caught it with his free hand and raised an eyebrow.

"No wand?" he took a step forward, grinning maliciously. "_Really...?_"

With a flick of his wand, the door closed behind him.

"I was wondering what Umbridge kept hidden behind all these wards." he strode across the room as he spoke, and placed his wand underneath her chin to force her to look into his eyes. The nasty smile on his face made her feel like icy water trickled down her spine.  
He was the cat with his claws against her mousy neck.  
He was oozing danger and she felt her heart beating faster as her body instinctively prepared for flight. She took a deep breath and tried to suppress a squeal.

"I don't recognize you." He turned her head from one side to the other as he inspected her. "You're not a muggle."

It was more of a statement than a question, but he paused and seemed to be waiting for an answer.

"..no_."_

He glanced down on the book before throwing it to the side.

"So. What’s your name, girl?"

"Does...does it matter?

The malicious grin returned to his face.

"I, am Thorfinn Rowle. It's not very polite to refuse to introduce yourself to a visitor now, is it?"

Of course, it was Rowle. She was surprised she hadn’t recognized him at once. Rowle was the death eater brute who flung death curses and dark spells all over the place during the battle in the astronomy tower. He even ended up killing one of his own.  
He was a moron. But maybe a moron she could exploit.

The death eater lowered his wand and motioned her to speak. Hermione hesitated.

"I'm... Penelope Clearwater"

Rowl chuckled.

" No dear, you're not" He shook his head and pointed his wand at her again.

_"Crucio."_

It hit her mid-breath. She'd never experienced such pain.  
The world shattered and she crumbled to the ground as the pain exploded through every vein of her body. It all ended before she hit the ground, face down on the floor. But it had felt like an eternity.  
She breathed in harshly, her body trembling like a leaf.

"I know you're not Clearwater" he snorted, looking down on the back of Hermione's head. "Clearwater's dead. Don't lie to me."

He paused, looking her over.

"I’m guessing someone made a pretty good job altering your looks..."

From her position on the floor, she could only hear the soft sound of Rowls robes as he lowered himself towards her. Then she felt a soft tug as he released her tightly braided hair. The hand continued, trailing slowly down her back before quickly lifting again.

"Don't worry dear, I won't damage Umbridge favourite prisoner."

He stood up and extended a hand towards her and flicked his fingers impatiently.

" Come on, let's get you on your feet."

She staggered to her feet without taking his hand and backed away from the death eater.

"Now...Are you going to tell me who you are or do I need to imperio you first?"

As she staggered an additional step back, Rowl flicked his wand so that a chair popped up behind her. She swallowed her pride and sat down. Maybe some version of the truth was her best option.

"I'm Hermione Granger"

Rowle did not look convinced.

"It's a glamour charm," she added quickly as he raised his wand towards her again.

"A glamour charm." He paused. "By you or by Umbridge?"

"...I did it... before they got me." Her voice was shaking. Hermione forced herself to take a deep breath. " I'm guessing Umbridge thought it useful... or just funny to keep it "

"Clever. Forgive me if I don't take your word for it. "

Rowl tapped her forehead with his wand and she could feel the glamour charm run off her like lukewarm water. Starting at the top of her head and trickling down to the tip of her toes.  
The surprise showed clearly on his face for a second before he burst out laughing.

"_Really..? _So it _really_ is Potters precious mudblood I have in front of me? If you didn't tremble so much, I'd make you give me a spin. " he's eyes gleamed ominously.

"How very _noble _of you to let me stay seated." She decided that it was safer to keep her eyes on her feet.

_"_You know, ever since the astronomy tower..." Rowle let his free hand glide over her back as he walked around her chair, inspecting her anew"...I've wanted to know what you would be like..." he stopped and she felt his breath against her ear ".. _when I'd fuck you."_

She froze as panic rose within her.  
She could feel how he was watching and waiting for her reaction. He just wanted to scare her.  
She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of looking scared.

"Fuck off Rowle. You said it yourself - you shouldn’t harm Umbridge favourite prisoner"

"Harm? Oh, Granger, give me some credit." he chuckled "I wouldn't harm you. " Rowles index finger and thumb closed around her chin, forcing her to look up at him. He was leering "You would like it."

Hermione stared into his eyes. "I would _not."_

He let her face go and conjured an armchair for himself and sat down.

"Also" Rowle continued "I can't imagine Umbridge would mind me borrowing you. Not after you led her into a pack of angry centaurs a few years back" He leaned closer and lowered his voice, smiling "We all know what centaurs might do to a woman lost in the woods."

She ignored him and tried to push down the panic rising inside her chest.

"No, no..." He shook his head and smacked his lips ironically, "Not a very Gryffindor thing to do. However..." Rowle muttered something, swished his wand and an empty glass appeared in his hand. He pulled a small flask from an inner pocket and poured the dark golden contents into the glass before once again pocketing it.  
He took a sip before reaching the glass to Hermione. She did not take it.

"It's firewiskey. " He took another sip before handing it to her once again "Drink."

She sniffed into the glass carefully before taking a small sip. It was indeed firewiskey. It burned as it passed down her throat and a warm feeling spread through her body. She wondered if her cheeks flushed and lowered her head when handing the glass back. At least it somewhat stilled the tremors in her hands.

"Some call it liquid courage, did you know?" Rowle said and motioned the glass back to Hermione.

"Sounds like a drinking problem, if you ask me" she muttered.

Rowle did not seem to listen.

"As another mudblood once said to me” he continued “_The secret to happiness is freedom and the secret to freedom is - courage_.' " at the last word he tapped the glass with a finger and grinned.

Who had thought it was a good idea to quote an old Greek muggle to a death eater?  
Would firewiskey lead to freedom and happiness? She strongly doubted it but took a sip anyway.

He laughed.

She tried to come up with a way to turn the situation to her advantage but she could not think of any. She instinctively felt how he revelled in the power he had over her. It gave her the creeps.

"Drink up Granger" Rowle smirked and pointed his wand at her. "We are going to have some fun, you and I"

"Really." She tried to give him, what she hoped was, her most defiant glare.

"Starting with" Rowle continued, smiling ominously "you taking your filthy mudblood panties off for me"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A great big thanks for reading!  
It's a slow start but smut will begin in chapter two, don't you worry  
Comments & constructive criticism are much appreciated. <3 
> 
> I will update later this week!  
Hope you'll enjoy it!  
\- Hylotelephium


	2. Ignorance

She stared at him, unbelieving.

"No."

Rowle rolled his eyes. She strongly considered crushing the glass still in her hands and using the shards as a weapon when she felt her hands dragged back and stick to the sides of the stupid chair. With another flick of his wand, the whiskey glass levitated into the death eaters hand.

"Haven't you noticed.." Rowle pointed his wand at the hem of her robes and they slowly slid up her legs. "you have no say in what happens to you. You are alone, wandless."

The hem of her robes rose over her knees.  
Her face must have shown the horror she felt as her robes came up to her hipbones, exposing her plain, cotton panties.

"Your taste in lingerie is questionable, to say the least." He grinned triumphantly at her reaction and took a sip of whiskey "Spread your legs."

"_No_."

She shook her head. She would not do it.

"Spread your legs, or I'll do it for you." he leant forward "I would have thought you'd prefer me to keep my distance, but if you crave my touch..."

"Don't." she quickly parted her thighs and glared at him. "Don't fucking touch me."  
Fear and anger fluttered inside her.

"Ouch, Granger, strong words. " he raised an eyebrow but drew back his hand "Is your mouth as filthy as your blood?"

Before she could respond Rowle flicked his wand and her panties, she was aghast, had turned to a cold, greyish liquid and proceeded to run down between her thighs, drip from the edge of the chair and gather in a puddle on the floor. She slammed her knees shut while carefully keeping her feet away from the puddle.

And he laughed. Hermione hated his stupid, mocking, triumphant roar of a laugh.

"Do you like the spell? It's a Dolohov invention." Rowl drank the last of the whiskey before levitating the liquified panties through the air and letting the solution pour into the empty glass.

"It has grown immensely popular within the death eater force," he said and swirled the liquid mockingly. "nothing beats the look on your enemies face as their robes just melt of them while fighting. Or the way the battlefield looked for the first couple of days this spell was around. It was definitely a morale boost."

"You know, I could give these back but ...._"_ Rowle pointed his wand at the glass and it disappeared. 

"Fuck off Rowle" at least swearing at him made her feel a bit better.

He sneered.  
"Cute. However - I did not tell you that you could close your legs. Come on Granger, show me your cunt."

She hesitated. Her whole body trembled from fear and anger and the aftermath of the cruciatus curse. Never had she felt so exposed.

"If you open your legs like a good girl, I will stay here in my armchair...not touching you."

The expression on his face was a predatory grin and she hated every part of it. She focused her concentration on the fury. She hated his stupid nose, stupid leering mouth, stupid stubbled cheek, his eyes... by no means did she want to meet his eyes as she let her trembling thighs part.

"Beautiful." His voice was lower, darker. She could feel the cold air against her bare skin and sex _and_ she could feel his eyes on her. With a jerk of his wand, rope tied her feet to the legs of the chair, preventing her from closing them again. A soft rippling sound told her Rowle had conjured and filled a new glass with fire whiskey.

"Now, Mudblood, I would like you to... pleasure yourself right here, in front of me." She heard him take a sip and felt her hands released from the sticking hex

"I want to see how wet you are when you come for me."

She felt her face heat and redden and kept her eyes on the floor.

"Maybe, you need some more ...courage?" He chuckled and the glass of fire whiskey appeared suddenly within her view, she flinched and turned her head away.

".._no._"

"No?" his voice had a dangerous edge to it.

"I...I .." she gathered all the courage she had within her and forced herself to meet his gaze and hold it. "I _won't._"

Rowle arched an eyebrow.

"You won't?" the sneer on his face made her feel sick. She felt her heart beat faster and breathing increase as she was trying to ready herself for another round of the cruciatus curse.

"_Imperio" _

All her fear and anger seemed to simply float away and was gently replaced by the most wonderful feeling of relaxation. She had not felt this good in a very long time, how long? She could not remember, the war... all her horrid memories eased away from her consciousness. All the fear, worries... responsibilities... Her mind felt completely blank. It was a void filled with a wonderful, comforting mist of ...of… 

She sighed and a dazed smile spread across her face, only dimly aware of someone watching her.

A mans laugh filled the room.

"I guess ignorance is bliss"

Then the voice whispered slowly to her. It drifted through her brain like a warm summer breeze, seeping out from some far back place in her mind. Calming, gently caressing her consciousness.

"_You want to close your eyes"_

She immediately obeyed and revelled at the wonderful, soothing feeling the darkness behind her eyelids provided her. The voice slowly continued.

"_You want to place your right index- and middle finger in your mouth..."_

They tasted slightly bitter and salt as she ran her tongue over her fingers, sucking on them gently. Somewhere in the room, a man chuckled.

_"...then let your hand glide down your upper body..."_

During her isolated imprisonment she had craved the feel of touch, anyone’s touch. Her own hands against her body were the second-best, it would have to do. She felt a pressing need for the feel of her warm palms through the fabric of her clothes. Somewhere in the dense fog clouding her mind a voice she vaguely registered as her own urged her not to listen to any of the instructions.

Her hand glided from her mouth, gently stroking the sensitive skin on her neck. Pausing at the feel of her collarbone, before proceeding on top of the fabric of her robes. Her hand graced the top of her left breast and lightly cupped her hand around it before letting her fingers continue down the centre of her ribcage. They were slowly travelling down her stomach, tracing the outline of her bellybutton, only coming to a stop when her hand met the place where her robes had gathered just above her hip bones.

"_...and then touch yourself like you do when you are alone..."_

_Yes. _The dazed smile on her face broadened. She had been so lonely. So ... so lonely. And in her loneliness, she had never possessed this amount of ...peace. There had been no pleasure. No possibility to even think about it. She knew now that she _craved_ what she had denied herself for so long. Somewhere in the back of her consciousness, the voice of Hermione Granger screamed at herself to stop.

Her still trembling fingers found their way from her hipbone to her exposed sex. As they began circling her clit, she felt the warmth from the tips of her fingers radiate through her body.

Every calm, deep breath heightening the sensation as her fingers continued their well-known choreography. Each circling motion sending stronger tingling waves of desire through her body.

To follow each instruction of the whispering voice was pure delight. Every obeyed order gave a sense of instant gratification. Her heart was beating faster. Her breathing was getting heavy.

She felt better than she had in years.

With her left hand, she felt her wetness and shuddered.

"..._you're not stopping until you come._"

It was all she had longed for. Release.

She was feeling ..fantastic. Electric. Her whole body vibrating under the touch of her own fingers.

It built up within her. Rising like steam in a kettle, water coming to a boil.

Until finally.

For a second, the world stood still.

Then a low wail escaped her lips as she shattered.

She did not realise that the curse had lifted until the ripples of pleasure had faded and she sat panting in the chair. Legs still tied to its front legs, eyes closed.

She quickly yanked down the fabric of her robes so that it covered her again. A small puddle of her own excitement had gathered between her thighs on the wooden chair and her face burned with shame.

When she opened her eyes, she found Rowle still in his chair, grinning at her.

"You have a very lovely cunt, Granger. Soaking."

" Fuck you, Rowle"

Her breathing was still heavy. She thought it best to keep her speech short and concise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Puh. That was great fun to write. Hope you enjoyed it aswell!  
Leave a comment and say hi :)
> 
> Chapter 3 is on its way!


	3. Exposed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So its finally here! The third chapter. First, sorry about the long, long time it took me to update.  
I was hesitant to post this chapter - I was torn between deleting the whole story or taking everything down to rewrite it after I reread it and hated everything about it. Oh well, I finally decided to post it as it is because I feel like you deserve an ending to what I started, and I honestly don’t know how to fix it. ^^”  
Please read my note at the end after finishing this chapter.
> 
> TW: rape.  
Don’t hesitate to message me if you have any questions.

_She did not realise that the curse had lifted until the ripples of pleasure had faded and she sat panting in the chair. Legs still tied to its front legs, eyes closed._

_She quickly yanked down the fabric of her robes so that it covered her again. A small puddle of her own excitement had gathered between her thighs on the wooden chair and her face burned with shame. _

_When she opened her eyes, she found Rowle still in his armchair, grinning at her. _

_"You have a very lovely cunt. Soaking."_

_"Fuck you, Rowle"_

_Her breathing was still heavy. She thought it best to keep her speech short and concise. _

He laughed.

"I was actually planning on fucking _you_, Granger... And now that you’re all wet and warmed up..."

"_Don't._" she needed to pause to catch her breath “come any, _fucking_ closer”

He just smiled at her.

"How long since you last slept with a man, Granger? "

She thought about Ron, about Viktor Krum.   
She directed her eyes on the ground. Focused on steadying her breathing. 

"You crave it."

She shook her head.

The armchair squeaked as Rowle dragged it closer to her. She could hear his heavy breathing and smell the whiskey on his breath... His knees flanked the insides of her own, large feet only inches from hers. When he placed a hand on her arm she flinched.

“Shh...” 

His hand traced upwards her arm, grazing the fabric of her robes. Fingertips met the exposed skin of her neck. Still soaking wet and aching with longing, her body begged to be touched, to be…entered. The sparks his touch spread through her, revolted her. As his fingers stroked her throat a sigh escaped her lips. She burned with shame and he knew it. His grip tightened around her chin and forced her to meet his gaze. She tried to conjure her most defiant stare. <strike></strike>

The expression in his eyes, triumphant. “Don’t move.”

The feel of wood against her skin reawakened the fear from deep within that foggy, mist of desire. Hermione sat frozen in her seat as he let his wand trail down her neck, finally halting when it met the fabric of her clothing.

She felt the tingle of magic and winced as the sound of ripping textile pierced the silence of the room. The torn neckline sent her robes sliding down her shoulders. Another movement of the wand made what still held it up rip to shreds and sent the remaining fabric pooling down on her hips. Instinctively her arms flung around her upper body.  
At last, Rowle released her chin from his grip.

“Hands on the chair, Mudblood.”

She didn’t move. Rough hands moved her arms to the side of her body, one by one, leaving her exposed.

“Stay.”

His _hands_.

They glided over the hyper-alert skin of her stomach. Cupping her breast, thumbs gracing their tender undersides, teasing her nipples erect. Fire rekindled in her lower abdomen.

“Granger, Granger, Granger…”

The smell of whiskey grew stronger as Rowle inched closer. She could scent the way his hair smelled. Feel the heat radiating from his body. Stubble scraped her skin as he took her nipple in his mouth, circled it with his tongue, sucking lightly. She pressed her lips shut.

Hot breath against her breast.

Hands moved over her hips, grabbing what remained of her robes. It took him two attempts to finally rip them down the middle.

There she was, naked before him. Legs still spread wide and bound to the chair. On display.  
Wanting more. Wanting to hit his stupid, stubbled face and get the hell out of here. 

Large hands travelled over the skin of her stomach.

She should stop him. Her pride, her sense of self screamed it.

Grab his hands. Refuse him.

But what would it gain her, except pain?

His hands moved downwards.

What if she gave in. 

Let him use her.

Give him what he wants and maybe he would go easy on her.

Hands grazed her hips.

The look on Rowle face was that of pure greed. Who was she kidding? The death eater in front of her was intent on raping her. He would not let her off easy. Thorfinn Rowle was not known to be gentle.

His fingers had found their way down to… to…

She gasped of pleasure – no, horror, as his fingers glided through the wetness between her legs. He circled her entrance with just the tip of a finger sending tingles throughout her body. She stemmed the impulse to move her hips towards him.

“Oh, you _crave_ it.”

The fingertip moved just inside her before retracting, then teasing again.

It felt …good. And she hated herself for it.

"I can feel your body reacting"

She shook her head violently.

He let his finger slip all the way inside her and she could not prevent the pant from escaping her lips.

“Go _away_.” 

He was leaning so close she could feel the warmth of his breath on her face when he leered at her.

“You want my cock moving inside you”

“You _repulse_ me.” She spat the words in his face.

Rowle chuckled and bucked his finger. Hermione had to press her lips shut to stay quiet. As his finger moved inside of her she could both feel and hear how wet she was. Every wicked little movement built up that powerful need within her.

“I think I will pry that repulsion out of you…”

His thumb stroked her slit. Continuing to circle her most sensitive parts.

Soon another small puddle would have formed on the chair.

“and as the mudblood whore you are,”

The air soared and her cheek burned. It was so sudden she stared at him in disbelief. He had slapped her.

Rowle leered at her.

“…you will love it.”

As he rose she felt the bindings on her legs dissolve into thin air. 

“Stand up.”

He reached for his wand and Hermione scrambled to her feet. Her legs felt week and unsteady. However, he did not point his wand at her but the mattress behind her. After mumbling a charm, legs sprouted from its underside and it grew upwards, stopping at, she realised, Rowles waist height.

He motioned her to move.  
She swallowed.

“Hands on the mattress, feet on the ground.”  
He barked out the order, simultaneously removing his outer robes.

She inched back towards the bed, reluctant to turn her back on him.

He threw his robes on the floor and put his wand back in his breast pocket before starting on his belt. The grin on his face made her shudder.

“Turn around, Mudblood.”

What else could she do? So she did as he told. Bending her torso slightly so that her palms met the cool cotton fabric of her mattress. Behind her, the unmistakable clinking sound from Rowle unbuckling his belt was followed by the sound of leather sliding against fabric.

Her heart was beating hard and fast against her chest. Her breathing, ragged.

She dimly noted that her body was shaking.

“Feet apart.”

Something cold and smooth glided against her side. She flinched.

He dragged it over her body, over her neck, cheeks and let it dangle within her view. The belt. She could smell the leather before he yanked it out of sight again. He toyed with her.

She heard him take a step back and realised what was coming.

The air whizzed. She gasped for breath as the belt struck her bare bottom with a clatching, smacking sound accompanied by stinging heat.

He didn’t stop. Each following strike increasing in force. She stared down at her hands, determined not to let any sound escape her lips. Two strikes. She bit down on her lip harder than she intended. Three strikes. She let out the breath she hadn’t realised she held. Four. The anticipation tensed her body. She felt high on adrenaline, her body tingly and exhausted.

When the fifth hit her, she couldn’t stay silent anymore. A cry escaped her.

“So, still repulsed?”

“_Yes._” through gritted teeth.

She winced with pain as three rapid lashes hit her.

“Good.” A cool palm caressed her stinging buttcheeks.

“What are you, Granger?”

She focused her gaze on her knuckles, as her fingers gripped the mattress. She knew what he wanted to hear.

“A mudblood”

When he answered his voice was soft, out of breath. He was right behind her.

“Yes, Granger. A mudblood in her rightful place.” 

His hand glided through her wet folds. Stimulating all the right places.

“What else?”

It was too much. She took a deep breath and readied herself for another blow.

“I don’t know” she whispered.

The belt came down on her, harder than ever. She bucked her hips to escape the impact of the blow but it only made her press into the hand that was working her. 

“You are wet. For me. Did I beat the repulsion out of you after all?” A gentle finger teased her entrance “Tell me how wet you are mudblood.”

She shook her head and he struck her again. And again. His one hand at work between her legs, the other gripping the belt.  
Her vision was blurring, and she realised she was tearing up. He was right. That’s why she couldn’t say it. No matter how little she wanted to, she had never been this turned on in her life. It was difficult to even think straight. In the end, she didn’t have to say anything. Soon each blow forced a throaty moan out of her that spoke for itself.

He didn’t stop until the air crackled by her magic and her breathing was rapid and uneven. She heard the belt drop to the floor and collapsed on the bed, a sobbing mess. Once again, he stroked her flaming cheeks.

“You like that too, don’t you? What a kinky little witch.”

When he removed his hands from her body she tried to wipe away the tears rolling down her face. Her abdomen glowed red-hot with desire. The skin which his fingers had caressed screamed for touch to return. 

What was wrong with her? She had never been turned on by pain. Or fear. But now brain and body tingled with the enthralling cocktail of lust, pain, adrenaline. Then it hit her.

“You put something in that whiskey, didn’t you?”

He laughed.

“Clever.”

The soft thudding sound of pants unbuttoning. A clenching sensation in the pit of her stomach.  
She could hear her heart beating. Blood rushed through her body.

“No, Granger, this…“ He let his hand stroke the wetness between her legs and she gasped “…is all _you_.”

He pushed her into the mattress with a firm grip on her neck. This would be it then. Her breathing picked up. She could feel the heat of his body radiating against her cheeks, thighs, in the small of her knees…

“I did say you would enjoy this” his voice breathy.

Hermione froze as she felt his erection slide over her sex. The velvety-soft skin of his hard length glided through her wetness and pressed against her before suddenly stopping. 

“No. Turn around.” Rowle released his grip and backed away.

“I want to see your face when you take my cock.”

She straightened up and turned around. Careful to avert her eyes from both his unbuttoned pants and gleaming eyes. She could guess how she looked, face flushed and wet with tears. He was so close. The small of her back pressed against the heightened bed - trapped between it and his towering body.

He caught her chin and forced her to turn her face against him.

“Crying?” he grinned at her “Oh, Granger, you make this even better.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I assume that if you are reading this you’re a responsible adult with a sound understanding of how real sexual encounters should work.  
I’m sure there’s a very fascinating psychological explanation to why certain fantasies turn us on and other does not. A fantasy, however, does not equal a wish to realize it.  
You are always responsible for making sure that your partner is enjoying themselves and consent.  
Rant over. :)
> 
> Hope you enjoyed reading this, dark theme and crap writing despite.  
Please let me know if I should include any other tags/ warnings.  
Also, sorry about ending with yet another a cliff-hanger-thingy.


	4. Revenge

In a swift movement, Rowle hoisted her up on the bed.

He pushed her to her back and used one knee to pry her legs open. She let him. For a wizard, he was huge.

“That’s better. Now...”

He gathered her wrists in a firm grip above her head. As he moved over her, her eyes are drawn to the wand placed in his breast pocket. The sight of it lit a spark of hope within her. She quickly averted her eyes and analysed the situation. One of her legs were free, she could move it. Kick with it. Rowle was a reckless man and he was growing increasingly careless around her. She would only need to surprise him with one good hard kick, or knee... Make him release her wrists and snatch that wand… Rowle moved his head close to hers, the whiskey-breath huffed over her as he licked a tear from her jawline.

“ .. I think I’ve waited long enough.” His voice a malicious whisper in her ear.

What did she have to lose? With the free leg, she aimed her knee with all her strength towards his groin. And missed.

_Shit._

Her knee met nothing but air, he had anticipated her move and twisted his body out of the way. Hermione glimpsed a triumphant grin before kicking blindly at anything within reach, desperately wringing and bucking her body, tugging her arms in different directions trying to break the iron grip around her wrists. Her foot finally hit something soft and she’s instantly rewarded by an angry grunt let out by Rowle. She aims another furious kick at the same spot. Throws her body to one side. Her foot missed the target, but her right wrist is free.

_YES!_

Victorious. She gripped after the wand, but to her horror - the pocket was empty. 

Hermione froze, her right arm still reaching for the pocket, as she finds herself yet again at Rowles wandpoint. _No. _She blinked back tears of frustration.

“Oh, you want this?” Rowle smirked at her.

He’d enjoyed her struggle. Like a cat playing with its dinner, he’d let her think she had a chance, just to be able to snatch it away from her.

As in a dream, she heard herself whisper.

“_Yes_.”

“Can’t have it” He looked her straight in the eyes and slowly, deliberately undid button by button on his shirt, revealing the scarred but incredibly muscular torso underneath.

“I don’t need magic to overpower you.”

Hermione let her arm sink back into the mattress. Rowle roared with laughter and, with an air of nonchalance, tossed the wand at the pile of clothing behind him. At least she was no longer at risk of an unforgivable curse, that gave some courage.

With a practised hand Rowle collects her arms and pushed them above her head. She pressed her free leg to the other, trying to twist her body away from him but Rowles rough hand flipped her to her back and pushed her knees up against her stomach.

With one hand constricting her arms, he lets the weight of his body force her thighs into her stomach to free his other hand. He stroked her cheek.

“I should obliviate you just to get to do this all again.” Rowle paused “Maybe I already have?”

He laughed.

The skin of his stomach feet felt hot and damp against her thighs.

She felt frantic. He couldn’t have? Surely she’d realise?

The hollows of her knees rested against his shoulders. She couldn’t move, could not do more damage than furiously slamming her heels into his back. Rowle only seemed to get egged on by her effort and placed a wet kiss on her neck. She was once again reminded of the heat pooling between her legs and disgusted by how her body betrayed her. The death eater positioned himself above her and her body folded into herself like a pocket knife - her feet above her head confined between the muscular arms constricting her arms and groping her body. The muscles in the back of her thighs strained from the uncomfortable position.

“My little mudblood whore.”

Trapped.

Fingers slid through her wet folds then disappeared. On Rowles face spread a wolfish grin.

A sigh escaped her lips as something hard but silky smooth pressed against her soaked entrance. Her body screamed for him to enter her.

_No. _

“STOP, _stop!_ “

Rowles heavy breathing turned into a groan. He slipped just past her entrance before stopping, barely his tip inside. Did he listen to her? _Why _did it feel so good to have him enter her? Her heart was racing. Biting her lip she fought the impulse to buck her hips and take him deeper. A rough hand gripped her chin. She hadn’t realised until then that she had turned her head and pressed her eyes shut. As she opened them his face was right above hers, surveilling her expression… there was nowhere to hide. She wondered briefly what emotion he saw in her face. Hate, lust, shame, confusion?

“Don’t,” she begged.

A malicious smile spread across his face. The grip around her chin tightened.

Then he pushed inside her. She moaned at the unexpected pleasure as inch by inch buried inside her.

“Please stop,” she whimpered.

Her slick inner walls stretched to accommodate his size. He stayed there, deep inside her. As if composing himself. Breathing heavy, staring at her face.

“Oh, shut up Granger you like it”

Then he started to move. Slow, steady.

Rowle groaned through gritted teeth, pressing deep inside her in a way that made her insides heat and throb.

How could she writhe with pleasure with a death eater inside her? The past hours had riled her up, left her soaking and sensitive. Every thrust sent waves of amazing, disgusting pleasure through her body. It was torture. Wicked, delicious torture. No one could endure this much emotion within such a short matter of time. She could take no more. She would explode or implode and there’d be nothing left of her.

He picked up the tempo.

Faster, harder.

The heat built to a fire.

She moaned and sobbed and begged him to stop.

Deeper.

_Fuck._

She was going to come. She could feel her orgasm building with each thrust and desperately tried to fight it off. She’d kill Rowle for making her feel this way. If ever given the chance, she’d fucking kill him.

She screamed in frustration.

Rowle let go of her chin. His hand pushed between their bodies. A calloused finger circled her clit. The combined stimulation escalated the build up inside her. It was impossible to hold back.

So she let go.

The world went blank for a second as her orgasm rolled over her. Her cry, raspy and unnatural as she shook and spasmed while pinned under him.

Rowle slowed down the pace, prolonging her orgasm in a way that made her toes curl. When she came down from her high, gasping for air, he leered at her. His thrusting felt even better after her release.

“Taking my cock like a good mudblood whore.”

_Ohgod_, why did that send thrills of desire down her spine? She was going insane, that was the only explanation. Completely raving mad.

“I’ll fuck you again…” he emphasized _again_ by thrusting inside her.

He grunted as he eased out.

“…and _again_”

Rowle picked up the pace.

She stifled a moan.

He didn’t try to make it good for her. Now he took her for himself. Fucking her with a punishing force, deep hard thrusts hitting her quivering insides. Pleasure bordering on pain.

So why the fuck would he make her come again. She could already feel the heat rising. Her wetness was audible and she felt as though she was getting wetter by each thrust. She wanted to beg him to get it over with, but she failed to muster her voice. The only thing escaping her mouth at this point frantic sobs and moans.

The air sparked with magic. So dense she could feel it against her skin. It felt so _good_. She hated him for it but she could feel a second orgasm closing in.

Wait.

The air sparked with magic. Her magic. In the back of her mind, she heard Rons frantic shouting “_Have you gone MAD!?_ _Are you a witch or not?_”. Why, oh, _why_ did she not think of it before. _You idiot_, she scolded herself.

She drew from the power in her anger, lust, fear, hope and tried to collect her magic.

Her breathing picked up. It felt as though her insides vibrated with power.

She couldn’t concentrate.

Rowle put his hand around her throat, making it difficult to breathe.

_Fuck. _

Her jaw dropped.

She was going to come. Hermione could feel it starting to roll through her.

She gulped for air.

Faster, harder.

_Nononononononoo-_

She exploded.

Despair. Euphoria.

She lost her mind, just a little, as the second orgasm overtook her.

She could only manage a small, surprised gasp of pleasure as she strained against his constricting grip and shook so hard it must have looked like she had a seizure.

Her muscles clenched and spasmed around his length and she heard him growl with pleasure. Rowle fucked her mercilessly and she thrashed against him. With a groan, he lunged inside her one last time. Warm spurts of liquid coated her insides as he spilt his seed within her. Panting, he let go of her throat. One hand on the mattress steadying himself the other still gripping her wrists. He pulled out his length and she squirmed as come seeped out of her. But she could breathe… and think again.

She tried to focus the magic to her fingertips.

Rowle leered at her. Oh, how she hated that face.

“Told you…” his voice breathless

Her magic was raw and uncontained. She wouldn’t be able to control it.

“…told you, you’d like it.”

He chuckled.

With a scream, she twitched her hands out of his grip and launched towards his face.

A look of surprise.

He raised his arm to deflect her.

Then her pent-up magic exploded from her hands and he toppled over her.

Yes, her body might have enjoyed it. Her mind, however, relished the look of Rowles electrified face.

With a surge of adrenaline, she pushed his limp body from her and he came crashing to the floor. She spurted out of bed and snatched the wand from the pile of clothes where it had landed then twirled.

There was nothing scary about the man now, as he lay flat on his back sprawled awkwardly on the floor. Red marks trailed from his face where she had touched him, continuing down his body like wisps of smoke.

She wiped the tears off her face with the back of a hand and inched closer.

Had she killed him? No. His chest raised and lowered rhythmically. Eventually, Rowle would (probably) regain his consciousness. 

She looked around. The strewn pieces of fabric that had once been her clothes were useless so with the help of his wand she transfigured the outer robes to fit her body. His wand did not work as well as her own, but it would have to do. The black woollen fabric wrapped around her soothed her skin and shielded it from the cool cellar air. With shaky hands, Hermione fastened the last buttons on the death eater robe, pulled the hood up then sank to her knees. Her arms hugged her trembling body and she tried to breathe deep and slow. She had to compose herself.

She would get out of her cell and re-seal the wards before attempting her escape.

A vicious smile spread over her face.

Rowle would wake up in her prison. Wandless and without knowing when he would be discovered. She hoped the Dark Lord would punish him severely when they’d eventually find him. She stood with new vigour, one foot after the other, then turned to look at the passed-out death eater.

After a moment's hesitation, she aimed one, hard stomp right in the groin, hoping the pain would still linger when he woke up.

One final deep breath.

Then she stepped over Rowles limp body and slunk through the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There it is. My first finished and posted story ever, haha. What chapter did you like best? Thanks for sticking around until the end, I’m honoured.


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